A nip into town for the Gentleman’s Grooming Show and some photography turned out to be a massive nostalgia hit and turned into a day lamenting the past and filling with regret.
My plan was to get out of London 5 years ago. I stuck about for a variety of crap reasons. All my friends moved on and out of London, so did the family. I stopped going out with mates, partly because I had few left, largely because of work. I have not been into the centre of town for years.
When I headed down into the West End I was overwhelmed with the feeling that most of my old haunts had gone. Redeveloped into the latest glass buildings. I would love to explore the new places, but I have nobody to explore them with.
If thats the case, why am I still paying into the mortgage for a piddly little 1 bed house, when I could sell it and mortgage free with a 3 bedroom house anywhere else in the UK? That’s a feeling that has been getting progressively bitter within me for years, but now I have time to stop and think on it. Now I have time to regret the life I am wasting. Now it has really hit me.
I love London. But good grief I need to be out of London next year. Before the regret becomes life consuming.